


Logged Out

by JJ_Jupiter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Dean Winchester Has No Filter, F/M, Ficlet, Het, Heterosexual Sex, Military Pilot Dean Winchester, Oneshot Prompts Challenge, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Quickies, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Top Dean Winchester, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:29:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27118906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJ_Jupiter/pseuds/JJ_Jupiter
Summary: Quick little Dean-in-space PWP oneshot.  He has no respect for authority in any universe.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	Logged Out

**Author's Note:**

> This is was originally written in '07 over at LJ for spn_het_love 's 'Beginnings' challenge. The prompt was: "Dean Winchester had a voice that could make toes curl"... From that, a weird one-shot Dean-in-space AU PWP ficlet was born.

Dean Winchester had a voice that could make toes curl. She's positive he knows it, too, doesn't matter whether her toes are curling from anger or panic or arousal, s'long as he's getting some kind of reaction out of her that she has to struggle to keep from showing all over her face. 

He's a cocky son of a bitch, but it's not like that ain't a warranted attitude, bastard knows he's the best pilot she has here. The best in the fleet.

"I cannot believe I'm hearing this, Winchester! You wanna explain to me what the fuck you were thinking!" 

She hears her volume go up, giving away some emotion, so she schools her voice immediately. She does her best not to yell at him, usually, because she's pretty sure he likes it when she loses it and she doesn't want to indulge him, especially not this time. He's neck deep in serious trouble, this time. 

The kid _can_ follow orders, she knows he can, wouldn't have gotten this far if he couldn't, but he's got this heroic streak that the academy couldn't beat or train or scare out of him and it makes him disregard the rule book when he feels the need to.

Hell, it's the reason he's here, playing in her sandbox, but she ain't ever telling him that, his ego doesn't need inflating anymore than it already is. 

"I was thinkin', _'Hey, there're a hundred innocent civilians down there and not one good reason they should have to die' ,_ " Dean informs her, one eyebrow arched, challenging.

The security lieutenant in her office quarters with them shifts on his feet, uncomfortable with the insubordination. 

Everyone knows Dean's got a mouth on him. Most of his mark-downs are for contradictory comments that he just _had_ to say out loud in front of a superior. He knows better than to talk to her like that in front of security, though.

She lowers her voice to something warning so Dean has the opportunity to really get the message when she starts talking again.

"I don't remember giving you permission to speak just yet, _son_ _._ Shut your mouth and don't be a fucking smartass, you're lookin' at serious discipline this time. You are in no position to act so foolish right now."

He really isn't. Any other guy with a record as pock-marked as his would've been out on his sorry ass a long time ago. 

Dean nods, looks at the floor, understanding. Finally getting it through his thick skull that she might not be able to get him out of the hot water this time.

"So, you saved the lives of a hundred civilians on an unknown rock. Well done, give yourself a pat on the back," she says, and gets in his face a little, tilts his jaw up to better her view of the graze across his cheekbone. He hasn't shaved today either, there's another broken rule that she can add to the list. "But the demon got away, Winchester. It's out there, fuck knows where and doing fuck knows what... Now, remind me, what was the objective of your mission? Speak."

"But the people are _safe_ , we can -"

"Just answer the fucking question!" Goddamn him. Three guesses what it is about him that's got her toes curling right now.

He startles a little, hates to be interrupted almost as much as she does and it makes him slip up, letting his irritation flicker across his face. Then he's looking her dead in the eye, the trace of a proud smirk to his mouth while he obediently says what he's supposed to.

"The objective of the mission was to obliterate the demon, ma'am." Good boy. She wishes he'd remembered that before he'd fucked the whole thing up, though.

"The mission was unsuccessful, Winchester. That's an unsatisfactory mark on _all_ our records, and we’ve only got _you_ to blame." She punctuates her statement with a stiff finger prod to his chest. They glare at each other for a few more seconds before she breaks eye contact to address their lone lieutenant audience.

"Go down to bay seven and get everybody off _The Impala_ _,_ she's going into secure storage 'til we can get back to base and make some decisions." She feels Dean bristle beside her, has to stick an arm out to stop him when he starts towards the exit.

"What the _fuck!_ Storage? No. She'll just be left to rot in there, you can't-"

"That's enough, Dean. You'll be lucky if she isn't decommissioned all together. We won't be able to recycle that one, she won't fly for anyone else, and you know it," she says, willing him to stop with a hard stare before turning back to the lieutenant. 

"Go. Now," she orders sternly and he goes, to her relief. At least she still has her authority intact with _most_ of the crew. 

"You fuckin' bitch," Dean hisses at her, soon as the exit's sealed again.

"Don't even start with me. Anchoring your ship is mild punishment for all the shit you pulled today," she reminds him. "Gimmie your hands."

She sees him hesitate, so stubborn he might rather stay cuffed than take help from the woman who's taking away his flying privileges. His defiance is unbelievable. 

He offers his wrists eventually, wanders to the far corner and plants his ass on a console once he's free of the restraints, jaw working minutely where he's grinding his molars. He stares out of the viewing panel, out into the vast darkness outside, a sullen frown on his face. 

She hates to do it, especially to him, but it's her ass that's grass if it looks like he doesn't receive the same treatment as everybody else with his rank.

He breaks the rules too frequently. Yeah, sure, more often than not, it's for a good cause, and if she's honest she admires him for it, but it gets him noticed by the brass, gets him a reputation. 

_W-reckless Winchester_ doesn't have the same ring to it when you're the one who has to write the failed mission reports and discipline his ass.

She was a rising star out of the academy; the youngest ever female to earn her current rank. Dean came noisily through the academy a few years after her and smashed most of her standing training records to pieces, so she’d heard his name, had known his reputation, long before he graduated and was hand picked to join her elite crew on the fleet’s brand new flagship.

They specialise is clandestine ops. Things most of the regular ground forces wouldn't even be able to imagine in their wildest dreams.

As predicted by her professors and peers, she's pulled off some incredible missions in her short time as Captain. More than most of them thanks in large to her and Dean's out of the box thinking and strategizing, their willingness to dive head first into dangerous deep cover covert operations, and his frankly inhuman skills behind the wheel, flying them out of impossible traps and situations where any other vessel would have been decimated. 

These victories have won her plenty of favour and forgiveness in the past, but she's argued Dean's case in front of the committee so many times now; she knows they've grown weary of her excuses. They're running out of luck and chances, fast. 

It's her entire career on the line now as well as his. 

She follows him after a few seconds, leans against the wall, purposefully in his line of vision. 

"If it's gonna cost the lives of a hundred innocent people then I hope we never catch the fuckin' thing," he spits at her, eyes flaring, fiery and upset, before he looks back at his boots. 

It's blasphemy to say shit like that, makes her heart speed up in her chest. She has to quell the urge to shush him, 'cause he'd only repeat it louder if she did, and fuck if he doesn't mean it with all his heart, too.

"You knew there'd be consequences, Dean," she says instead, and lets her hand drift up his spine, feels his muscles jumping under his t-shirt where it tickles. 

Off-planet fraternization of any kind is strictly banned, with good reason, so even the simplest touch can feel so intimate, can cause sparks to fly. She clamps onto the back of his neck when she reaches it and gets a good grip so she can haul his head towards hers.

He's angry and he kisses her like it's her fault. Aggressive, all rough tongue and teeth. He sends the breath out of her lungs when he forces her back against the wall. 

"Careful," she has to growl at him when he jams his leg between hers, pushes it higher and higher against her crotch 'til she's as good as riding his thigh. He pulls her ass in and pushes his dick low into her belly, rubbing anywhere he can reach. 

God, he's always been so good at this. Illegally and secretly fucking his superior officer. Of course he is. Has been from practically his first day on the ship. 

He's a pro when it's urgent like it is now; doesn't want them to get caught any more than she does. Her punishment would be the most severe if anyone found out. They'd make an example out of her, for sure. 

She doesn't know why she can't stop, but she's tried to resist and failed a hundred times already. 

"Shut the fuck up," he mutters against her mouth, one hand jerking her belt open and the other slapping at the console by his side, blindly trying to engage the locks for the door. _Fuck_ _,_ nobody talks to her like that. _Nobody._

She wonders sometimes what kind of pervert she is for liking it when he orders her around, for liking it that deep down he doesn't give a shit what her rank is, or his own. He's not like the rest of the drones from the academy, he's not here to get promoted, he's here solely because he loves to fly and he loves to save people. She can't get enough of him.

She knocks his hand away, undoes her own pants, fingers shaking on the button-fly until the pants slip down on their own, pooling atop her boots and no way have they got time for the removal of footwear or the chore of unlacing. 

It's awkward, but Dean's got it down to an art form, stepping between her legs, hitching her roughly up off the ground and against the wall again. She locks her thighs around his waist, arms around his neck, well practiced. Ain't the first time she's done this with her ankles hobbled. He's already taking care of his own belt, jangling it loose, groans a little into her neck once his zipper's down and he's as good home free, inching his shorts down, just enough, always economical with time.

He presses himself into her panties, and shit. _Shit_ _._ They both moan into each other's necks. She feels herself giving inside, everything that isn't already liquid heat between her legs surges for him. She tips her head back and enjoys the thick, hot feel of him through her underwear, rubbing just right, doesn't care how it makes her look. Hell, she _is_ a slut for him, it's no good trying to pretend otherwise by now.

He huffs out a shaky breath against her collar and she tips her face forward again, perfect angle to suck the shell of his ear into her mouth as his deft fingers hitch her panties out of the way. He's inside in one stretching hot delicious drag and she holds her breath to keep from moaning again, feels herself tremble all over, still shocked every time by the perfect intrusion of him. 

She's empty then full again before she has a chance to get used to it. Then again, and again, fuck, jolting warmth floods through her pelvis and up her spine each time. He fucks her harder than usual, making angry little noises, leaving deliberate territorial marks on her neck that she'll have to hide and she can't help humming out her shameful approval as she feels the involuntary squeeze inside, her muscles singing with the sweet ache of a rapidly built but long overdue orgasm. 

When he comes he shudders out her first name, the barest whisper tickling through her hair, like a forbidden secret, making her overwrought body clench on him.

He doesn't let her down for a minute, even though they're probably thirty seconds from being caught. All her bones are jelly so his muscles can't possibly be at full capacity. He holds her up anyway, wipes his sweaty forehead on the shoulder of her t-shirt, takes him half a minute to catch his breath.

"Are you gonna let'em put me to sleep?" he asks, muffled against her throat. She closes her eyes, rubs her cheek against his hair, which is a little longer than it’s supposed to be under the dress code regulation; another rule that he can't help but test the boundaries of.

"I have to," she sighs. Another thing she hates to do. She hates doing that to anybody, but she knows Dean doesn't sleep well. He doesn’t rest and he doesn’t like the kind of dreams he has while he's under. "Just until we get back to base."

He pulls back, spends some time lookin' at her face before he lowers her legs back down, and she wonders what the fuck he's thinking about. Hoping despite herself that he doesn't hate her as he carefully steps out of their entanglement. Goddamn him for not following his fucking orders. 

She hasn't mentioned it but there was comms silence for four an' a half long minutes while he was off being a hero out of range of their sensors and her toes were curled in her boots in abject horror and fear for the entire duration.

  
  


He looks right at her over the medic's shoulder when they come to put the IV in, to give him the drugs that'll put him to sleep for the rest of their journey home. He lays down on his bunk obediently and smirks at her when she's about to leave the room, his eyelids already getting heavier.

"I'd do it again tomorrow if I had the chance," he says. The medic shakes her head, disapproving, and the two security officers flanking her murmur to each other, offended.

"I know you would," she tells him, and tries to keep it from showing on her face that she's glad he means it. She wouldn't have him any other way. 


End file.
